ITALIAN SCULPTURE IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY—CELLINI, MICHAEL ANGELO, AND OTHERS.
By the beginning of the sixteenth century sculpture occupied a different place with relation to architecture from that which it had held in the previous centuries which we have just considered. The architecture of Italy became much more plain, and its union with sculpture in any large degree was rare.
Painting, too, had now an effect to lessen the sphere of sculpture. This art was always preferred by the Christians, as has been shown before, and now, when it had reached most satisfactory heights, it was used in many places where sculpture had before been placed. One important example of this is seen in the decoration of altars; where bas-reliefs had been used paintings were now preferred, and the end of all was that sculpture was limited to monuments and to separate pieces—reliefs or single statues or groups of figures.
In some ways this separation of the arts was a benefit to all. Under the old rule sculptors had often been forced to sacrifice their design to the needs of the architecture their work adorned. At other times they were compelled to put aside their own feeling and their artistic ideas as to how a subject should be treated, and suit themselves to such forms as were approved by the particular priest or bishop whose church they decorated. Now, when left to itself, sculpture became more individual in its expression, and far more free and interesting in itself. In the beginning of the sixteenth century the works of Italian sculpture were splendid in the extreme. It was delicate and beautiful; the drapery was made to show the figure and its natural motion, while it added an exquisite grace to the whole; many works of this period were fine in conception, good in their arrangement, and executed in a noble, spirited manner. Some critics believe that during the first four decades of this era Italian sculpture equalled the antique art of the Romans. Others make 1520, or the time of Raphael, the limit to the best epoch of this art; but it is scarcely possible thus to fix an exact bound; the important point is that this excellence was reached, and the regret follows that it could not endure for a longer period.
A far greater variety of subjects was represented in this age of sculpture than before. Formerly the rule was the production of religious effects. Scenes from the life of Christ and his disciples, others from those of the saints, or the illustration of scriptural stories, with the portrait tomb-sculpture, had been the sculptor's work. Now all the stories of mythology were studied as diligently as they had been in classic days, and artists studied to clothe the pagan personages with new forms; and in all this effort much appeared that was original. It is easy to see that such sculpture from the hand of a Christian artist must lack the important element of pure sincerity. An artist who believed in Jesus Christ could not conceive a statue of Jupiter, with all the glorious attributes, that an ancient Greek would have given to his god of gods. In this view the sculpture of classic subjects of this sixteenth century may be said to have been two-sided—the work illustrated a religion in which the artist pleased his imagination, but for which he had no reverence or love. But in spite of all it was a golden age, and many of its works are a "joy forever."
| Fig. 100. Pharisee. By Rustici. | Fig. 101. Levite. By Rustici. |
Although the first public work which Leonardo Da Vinci did at Milan was to model an equestrian statue, we can scarcely speak of him as a sculptor. But the first Florentine of this period whom I shall mention is Giovanni Francesco Rustici (1476-1550), who was a fellow-pupil with Leonardo under Verocchio. Very few works by this master remain, but a prominent and important one is the bronze group above the northern portal to the baptistery at Florence. It represents the "preaching of St. John The Baptist," and is grand in the free action of its figures. The Drapery is in a pure style, very much like that of Ghiberti (figs. 100, 101). This work was ordered by a guild of merchants, and they failed to pay the price which had been fixed for it. Rustici was so embarrassed by this that he undertook no more large works, and after the Medici were expelled from florence he went into the service of Francis I. in France he had executed various works, and was finally commissioned to model an equestrian statue of the king in colossal size, when the sovereign died. Rustici survived but three years, and we are told that he only executed small works, and those "for the most part for the sake of kindness."
Andrea Contucci dal Monte San Savino, called Sansovino (1460-1529), was a very important sculptor, because large works were committed to him, and his name must remain associated with them. Like Giotto, Sansovino was a shepherd-boy, and drew pictures upon the stones of the fields. Like Giotto, too, he was sent to Florence to study, and in the school of Pallajuolo made good progress. When thirty years old he was appointed architect and sculptor to the King of Portugal. After an absence of ten years he returned to Florence, and later to Rome, where Pope Julius II. commissioned him to erect monuments to the Cardinals Rovere and Sforza, in the Church of Santa Maria del Popolo.
These monuments were his best works, but they cannot be praised. The statues are in positions which seem to be uncomfortable, and there is such a mass of ornament and so many statuettes that the whole has an effect of confusion.
In 1513 Leo X. sent Sansovino to Loreto to adorn the temple which incloses the "Casa Santa" with bas-reliefs. This Casa Santa is believed to be the house in which the Virgin Mary was born at Nazareth; and when the Saracens invaded the land four angels are said to have borne the house to the coast of Dalmatia, and later to a spot near Loreto; but here some brigands entered it, and again it was removed to its present position in the Church of Loreto; this is said to have been done in 1295. Naturally this "Casa Santa" is a sacred object to all Roman Catholics, and it is visited by thousands and thousands of pilgrims each year.
The decoration of this shrine was very important, and an honorable work for any artist. Sansovino did not execute all the reliefs, and the highest praise that can be given to those he did is to say that they are superior to the others that are beside them. He was a most skilful workman, and it seems as if marble became like wax under his hand; but this very skill led him to multiply his ornaments, and to repeat acanthus leaves and honeysuckle vines until the whole was a weariness and confusion, and conveyed no meaning or sentiment whatever.
Fig. 102.—Bacchus.
By Jacopo Sansovino.
Sansovino's most important pupil was Jacopo Tatti, who, on account of his master, is called Jacopo Sansovino (1477-1570). He was born at Florence, and when Andrea Sansovino returned from Portugal Jacopo became his pupil. Early in life he went to Rome, and there studied and copied the works of antiquity; among other things he made a copy of the Laocoon, which was cast in bronze at a later time. Soon after his return to Florence, in 1511, Jacopo received orders for some works, but the most important statue which he made about this time is the Bacchus, now in the Uffizi. In this work he showed how completely he was in sympathy with the classic spirit; this Bacchus is a triumph in this manner, and has been called "the most beautiful and spirited pagan statue of the Renaissance period." It is full of gladness, and is simple, delicate, and beautiful. The young god is advancing and holding up a cup, which he regards with an expression of delight; in his right hand he has a bunch of grapes, from which a Pan is eating stealthily (Fig. 102).
In 1514 Jacopo Sansovino was employed upon the decorations for the visit of Leo X. to Florence. Soon after this he went again to Rome and submitted plans for the Church of San Giovanni de' Fiorentini, which the Florentines were about to erect—for this master was an architect as well as a sculptor. The taking of Rome by Constable de Bourbon, in 1527, drove Sansovino away; he went to Venice, intending to go to France, but Venice charmed him, and his work pleased the Venetians, and the result was that from 1529 he served the Venetians as long as he lived. He was appointed Protomastro of the Republic of Venice, and had the care of St. Mark's, the Campanile, the Piazza, and the surrounding buildings. He received a good salary, and was provided with a handsome house to live in.
He first restored the cupolas of St. Mark's; then completed the Scuola della Misericordia; he next made the interior of San Francesco della Vigna; then the Zecca, the Fabbriche Nuove, and the Loggietta of the Campanile. He also erected other churches and palaces, besides smaller sculptural works. But his architectural masterpiece was the Library of St. Mark's. The bronze gate to the Sacristy of St. Mark's was one of his principal works. It is subject to criticism as being too crowded; but it is a fine work and full of strong feeling.
His statues are numerous and seen all over Venice; indeed, it is proper to speak of him as a Venetian, so thoroughly did he adopt that city, and so industriously did he work for it during forty years. Had he remained in Florence he might have been a better artist; the splendor and luxury of the Venetians brought out corresponding traits in Jacopo, and he fell short of the purity which the influence of Florence might have given him. He is one of the masters in whom the sensual influence of the study of pagan art was fully manifested. Many of his subjects were mythological; among them were the story of Phrixos and Helle, Mercury, Apollo, Pallas, Mars, and Neptune, the last two being colossal figures on the steps of the Doge's Palace.
Among the pupils and associates of Sansovino were Niccolo Braccini (1485-1550), called Il Tribolo, and Francesco Sangallo (1498-1570), neither of whom were important artists, though many works by them are seen in various places in Italy.
Benvenuto Cellini (1500-1572) is a far more interesting study than were many sculptors of his time. His life was an eventful one, and his own account of it is one of the most interesting books of its class in existence. His statement of the origin of his family is that "Julius Cæsar had a chief and valorous captain named Fiorino da Cellino, from a castle situated four miles from Monte Fiascone. This Fiorino having pitched his camp below Fiesole, where Florence now stands, in order to be near the river Arno, for the convenience of the army, the soldiers and other persons, when they had the occasion to visit him, said to each other, 'Let us go to Fiorenza,' which name they gave to the place where they were encamped, partly from their captain's name of Fiorino, and partly from the abundance of flowers which grew there; wherefore Cæsar, thinking it a beautiful name, and considering flowers to be of good augury, and also wishing to honor his captain, whom he had raised from an humble station, and to whom he was greatly attached, gave it to the city which he founded on that spot."
When this artist was born his father was quite old, and named him Benvenuto, which means welcome, on account of his pleasure in the child of his old age. The father had a passion for music, and from the first wished that his son should study this art; but the boy loved drawing, and was determined to be an artist; thus his time was divided between these two pursuits until he was fifteen years old, when he was apprenticed to a goldsmith.
Benvenuto had a fiery temper, and when still very young he became involved in so serious a quarrel that he was obliged to flee from Florence. He went first to Siena, and thence to Bologna, and at last back to Florence, where he resumed his work. It was not long, however, before he became angry again because his best clothes were given to his brother, and he walked off to Pisa, where he remained a year. He had even then become so skilful in his art that some of his works done there have never been excelled either in design or execution.
When Cellini was eighteen years old Torrigiano came to Florence to engage artists to go to England to aid him in some works he was to execute. He wished to have Cellini in the number; but Torrigiano so disgusted Benvenuto by his boasting of the blow that he had given Michael Angelo, that though he had the natural youthful desire to travel, he refused to be employed by such a man as Torrigiano. We can safely assume that this predisposed Michael Angelo in Cellini's favor, and was the foundation of the friendship which he afterward showed to the younger sculptor.
From his eighteenth to his fortieth year Cellini lived mostly at Rome. He was employed by Pope Clement VII., the cardinals and Roman nobles. The Pope desired to have a cope button made and a magnificent diamond set in it. This jewel had cost Julius II. thirty-six thousand ducats. Many artists sent in designs for this button, and Clement chose that by Cellini. He used the diamond as a throne, and placed a figure of the Almighty upon it; the hand was raised as if in blessing, and many angels fluttered about the folds of the drapery, while various jewels were set around the whole. When other artists saw the design they did not believe that it could be executed successfully; but Cellini made it a perfect work of art and of beauty.
Cellini writes of himself as being very active in the siege of Rome, May 5th, 1527. He says that he killed the Constable de Bourbon, who led the siege, and that he wounded the Prince of Orange, who was chosen in Bourbon's place. No one else saw him perform these feats. Cellini went to the Pope, who was in the Castle of St. Angelo, and he there rendered such services to the cause of the Church that the Holy Father pardoned him for all the sins into which his temper had led him—"for all the homicides he had committed or might commit in the service of the Apostolic Church." A few years later, when Cellini was called upon to take part in the defence of his own city, he put all his property into the care of a friend, and stole away to Rome.
In 1534 Cellini killed a fellow-goldsmith, called Pompeo; Paul III. was now Pope; and as he needed the services of Benvenuto very much he pardoned him. But the sculptor felt that he was in ill favor with all about him, and went to France. In about a year he returned to find that he had been accused of stealing some jewels which the pope had commanded him to take out of their settings. Cellini was held a prisoner nearly two years, but his guilt was never proved.
At the end of this time the Cardinal Ippolito d'Este obtained his release in order that he might go to France to execute some work for Francis I. Cellini remained in France five years, and received many honors and gifts; but as Madame d'Étampes and other persons to whose advice the king listened were enemies of Cellini, he never was treated as his artistic qualities merited. Francis I. really admired Cellini, and presented him with the Hôtel de Petit Nesle, which was on the site of the present Hôtel de la Monnaie; he also made him a lord, and on one occasion expressed his fear of losing him, when Madame d'Étampes replied, "The surest way of keeping him would be to hang him on a gibbet."
Of all the objects which Cellini made during his five years in France but two remain. One is a splendid salt-cellar, and the other is a nymph in bronze, which was made for the Palace of Fontainebleau, and is now in the Renaissance Museum of the Louvre. This salt-cellar is now in the Ambraser Gallery at Vienna. The frieze around the base has figures in relief which represent the hours of the day and the winds. The upper part is made like the surface of the sea, and from it rise figures of Neptune and Cybele. The first is a symbol of the salt of the sea, and the second of the spices which the earth gives. The god is placing his arm on a small ship intended for the salt, and a vessel for pepper, in the form of a triumphal arch, is near the goddess. All this is made of fine embossed gold, and has some touches of enamel-work. It is one of the finest pieces of the goldsmith's art which remains from the sixteenth century.
In 1545 Cellini returned to Florence, and remained there, with short absences, until his death. Duke Cosmo de' Medici became his patron, and commissioned him to make a statue of Perseus for the Loggia de' Lanzi. The ambition of the artist was much excited by the thought of having his work placed by those of Donatello and Michael Angelo, and all care was taken from his mind, as the Duke provided him with a comfortable house and gave him a salary sufficient for his support.
It was nine years before the statue was completed and in its place, and in this time Cellini had suffered much. Baccio Bandinelli and others were his enemies, and at times the Duke had been under their influence, and would not furnish the money necessary to the work. But at last all was ready for the casting; and just at this unfortunate moment for Cellini to leave it he was seized with a severe illness; he was suffering much, and believed himself about to die, when some one ran in shouting, "Oh, Benvenuto, your work is ruined past earthly remedy!"
Ill as he was he rushed out to the furnace, to find that the fire was too low, and the metal, being cool, had ceased flowing into the mould. By almost superhuman efforts he remedied the evil, and again the bronze flowed; he prayed earnestly, and when the mould was filled he writes: "I fell on my knees and thanked God with all my heart, after which I ate a hearty meal with my assistants, and it being then two hours before dawn, went to bed with a light heart, and slept as sweetly as if I had never been ill in all my life."
Fig. 103.—Perseus.
By Benvenuto Cellini.
When the statue was unveiled Cellini's prediction that it would please all the world except Bandinelli and his friends was fulfilled. Perseus is represented just at the moment when he has cut off the head of Medusa, who was one of the Gorgons, and had turned to stone every one who looked at her. (Fig. 103.)
After the completion of the Perseus, Cellini went to Rome for a short time. While there he made a bust of Bindo Altoviti; when Michael Angelo saw this he wrote: "My Benvenuto, I have long known you as the best goldsmith in the world, and I now know you as an equally good sculptor, through the bust of Messer Bindo Altoviti." Cellini did no more important works, though he was always industrious. He made a crucifix which he intended for his own grave, but he gave it to the Duchess Eleanora; this was afterward sent to Philip II. of Spain, and is now in the Escurial.
Cellini's life was by no means a model one, but he had his good qualities. He took a widowed sister with six children to his home, and made them welcome and happy. At his death he was buried in the Church of the Annunziata, beneath the chapel of the Company of St. Luke, and many honors were paid to his memory.
His autobiography was so rich in its use of the Florentine manner of speech and so fine in its diction that it was honored as an authority by the Accademia della Crusca. He also wrote valuable works on the goldsmith's art and on bronze-casting and sculpture. He wrote poems and various kinds of verses, but his large acquaintance with popes, cardinals, kings, artists, and men of letters makes his story of his life far more interesting than his other writings.
The artists of Upper Italy were much influenced by Florentine art, as they had formerly been, and we can speak of no very great sculptor of this century who belonged to this part of the country. Alfonso Lombardo (1488-1537) was a native of Lucca; his principal works are seen in Ferrara, Bologna, and Cesena.
Properzia de' Rossi (1490-1530) was born at Bologna, and is interesting as the one Italian sculptress of that time. She was born about a year after her father had returned from the galleys, where he had worked out a sentence of eighteen years for the crime of manslaughter. Properzia seems to have inherited her father's violent temper, and was twice arraigned in court. She was very beautiful in person, and had a devoted lover in Antonio Galeazzo Malvasia de' Bottigari, who did not marry until many years after the death of Properzia.
Properzia studied drawing under Marc Antonio Raimondi, the famous engraver. She first devoted herself to the cutting of intaglios, which demanded an immense amount of patient labor. There is in the cabinet of gems in the Uffizi Gallery, at Florence, a cherry-stone carved by Properzia, on which sixty heads may be counted; the subject is a Glory of Saints. Other like works of hers exist in the Palazzo Grassi, in Bologna. Her next work was in arabesques, marble ornaments, lions, griffins, vases, eagles, and similar objects.
Finally she essayed a bust of Count Guido Pepoli; it is now in the Sacristy of San Petronio, in Bologna. In the same place are two bas-reliefs by her hand, Solomon receiving the Queen of Sheba, and Joseph and Potiphar's Wife. In the chapel Zambeccari in San Petronio there are two large figures of angels by Properzia, which are near the Ascension of the Virgin by Il Tribolo. Her manner was much influenced by her contact with this sculptor. Properzia was employed, with other artists, to finish the sculpture of the portal of San Petronio, left unfinished by Jacopo della Quercia.
Antonio Begarelli (1499-1565), called also Antonio da Modena, from the place of his birth, was a celebrated modeller in clay. It is said that when Michael Angelo visited Modena in 1529 he saw Begarelli and his works, and exclaimed, "Alas for the statues of the ancients, if this clay were changed to marble!" Begarelli had a school for teaching design and modelling, and he greatly influenced the manner of the Lombard school of painting. Its foreshortening, its relief and grace are largely due to him and his teaching.
Begarelli and Correggio were fast friends, and resembled each other in their conception of the grand and beautiful. When Correggio was decorating the cupola of the Cathedral of Parma, Begarelli was at work in the same place, and made many models from which Correggio painted his floating figures. Some works by Begarelli may be seen in the Berlin Museum. His Descent from the Cross, in the Church of San Francesco, at Modena, is one of his best works. He was also employed in the Church of San Benedetto, in Mantua, and in San Giovanni, at Parma.
During the sixteenth century the works at the Certosa at Pavia and in various edifices in Milan were constantly carried on. Frequently the same sculptors worked in both cities, but there is no one artist of great excellence among them of whom we can give an account. The same is true of the works in Venice and in Southern Italy. The traveller sees many pieces of sculpture belonging to this period, but there are no great and interesting men whose story we can tell in connection with them, and I shall now pass to an account of the great Florentine.
Michael Angelo Buonarroti (1475-1564) was born in the Castle of Caprese, where his father, Ludovico Buonarroti, was stationed at that time, holding the office of Podesta, or Governor, of the towns of Caprese and Chiusi. The Buonarroti family held good rank in Florence, and the mother of the great artist was also a woman of good position. When his father returned to Florence the child Michael was left at Settignano upon an estate of the family, and was in the care of the wife of a stone-mason. As soon as the boy could use his hands he drew pictures everywhere that it was possible, and his nurse could show many of these childish drawings with which he adorned the walls of her house.
At a proper time Michael Angelo was removed to Florence and placed in a school, where he became intimate with Francesco Granacci, who was a pupil of the artist Ghirlandajo. Michael Angelo's father and his uncles were firmly opposed to his being an artist; they wished him to follow the traditions of his family, and carry on the silk and woollen trade. But the boy was firm in his determination, and after many trials was at length, in 1488, apprenticed to the Ghirlandaji for three years.
Domenico Ghirlandajo was at this time engaged in the restoration of the Church of Santa Maria Novella, and Michael Angelo came into the midst of great artistic works. One day at the dinner hour he drew a picture of the scaffolding and all its belongings, with the men at work on it; it was a remarkable drawing for a boy, and when the master saw it he exclaimed, "He understands more than I do myself!" The master really became jealous of his pupil, more especially when Michael Angelo corrected the drawings which Ghirlandajo gave his scholars for models.
About this time Michael Angelo was brought to the notice of Lorenzo de' Medici, who was at that time at the head of the government of Florence, and from him the boy-artist obtained admission for himself and Granacci to study in the gardens of San Marco. The art treasures of the Medici were placed in these gardens; works of sculpture were there, and cartoons and pictures were hung in buildings erected for the purpose, and art-students were admitted to study there and proper instructors provided for them.
The master in sculpture was old Bertoldo, and Michael Angelo, forsaking painting, obtained some instruments and a piece of marble, and copied a mask of a faun. He changed his own work somewhat from the model, and opened the mouth so that the teeth could be seen. When Lorenzo saw this he praised the work, but said, "You have made your faun old, and yet you have left all his teeth; you should have known that at such an age there are generally some teeth wanting." When he came again he saw that a gap had been made in the teeth, and so well done that he was delighted. This work is now in the Uffizi Gallery.
Very soon Lorenzo sent for Michael Angelo's father, who had been sad enough at the thought that his son might be a painter, and was now in despair when he found that he inclined also to be a stone-mason. At first he refused to see the duke, but Granacci persuaded him to go. He went with a firm determination to yield to nothing, but once in presence of Lorenzo he yielded everything, and returned home declaring that not only Michael, but he himself, and all that he had were at the nobleman's service.
Lorenzo at once took Michael Angelo into his palace; he clothed the boy properly, and gave him five ducats a month for spending money. Each day Lorenzo gave an entertainment, and it was the rule that the first person who came should sit next the duke at the head of the table. Michael Angelo often had this place, and he soon became a great favorite with Lorenzo, and obtained besides the greatest advantages from the life in the palace; for many eminent men from all parts of the world came to visit there, and all sorts of subjects were discussed in such a manner that a young man could learn much of the world and what was in it, and acquire a feeling of ease with strangers and in society such as few young persons possess.
Fig. 104.—Michael Angelo's Angel.
Bologna.
Michael Angelo was but seventeen years old when Poliziano advised him to attempt an original work, and gave him the marble for a relief of the contest between Hercules and the Centaurs. This work surprised every one, and is still preserved in the collection of the Buonarroti family. In the year 1492 he also made a relief of the Madonna Suckling the Child Jesus, which is also in the same place. In the same year Lorenzo de' Medici died, and Michael Angelo, full of grief, went to his father's house and arranged a studio there. After a time Piero de Medici invited him to come back to the palace, and he went; but it was no more the same place as formerly, and he was unhappy there. Soon political troubles drove the Medici from power, and in 1494, in the midst of the confusion, Michael Angelo escaped to Venice. There he made friends with Gian Francesco Aldovrandi of Bologna, and was persuaded by that nobleman to accompany him to his own city.
While at Bologna he executed an angel holding a candelabra, which is one of the most lovely and pleasing things he ever made (Fig. 104). When he received the commission to ornament the sarcophagus which contained the remains of San Domenico in the Church of San Petronio, the Bolognese artists were so angry at being thus set aside for a stranger, and a youth of twenty, that they threatened vengeance on him, and he returned to Florence.
It was at this time that he executed a Cupid, which was the means of leading him to Rome. The story is that when he had the statue completed Lorenzo de' Medici, a relative of his first patron, advised him to give it the appearance of an antique marble, and added that he would then sell it in Rome and get a good price for it. Michael Angelo consented to this plan, and in the end he received thirty ducats for the work. The secret of its origin was not kept, and the cardinal who had bought it sent an agent to Florence to find out the truth about it. This agent pretended to be in search of a sculptor; and when he saw Michael Angelo he asked him what works he had done. When he mentioned a Sleeping Cupid, and the agent asked questions, the young sculptor found that the cardinal had paid two hundred ducats for it, and that he had been greatly deceived when attempting to deceive others.
Fig. 105.—Pietà.
By Michael Angelo.
Michael Angelo consented to go to Rome with this man, who promised to receive him into his own house, and assured him that he would be fully occupied in the Eternal City. The oldest writing by the hand of Michael Angelo is the letter which he wrote to Lorenzo telling him of his arrival in Rome; when this was written he was twenty-one years old. The first work which he did after he reached Rome was the "Drunken Bacchus," now in the Uffizi Gallery; it shows a great knowledge of anatomy in one so young, and the expression of drunkenness is given in the most natural manner.
But the work that established his fame as a great sculptor is the Pietà, now in St. Peter's at Rome (Fig. 105). He was twenty-five years old when he executed this work, and from that time was acknowledged to be the greatest sculptor of Italy—a decision which has never been reversed.
Soon after this Michael Angelo returned to Florence, and his first important work was a Madonna, now at Bruges; it is life-size, and one of his finest sculptures. There was at this time an immense block of marble which had lain many years in the yard to the workshops of the cathedral. Several sculptors had talked of making something from it, and now Michael Angelo was asked by the consuls to make something good of it. He had just taken an order for fifteen statues for the Piccolomini tomb at Siena; but when he saw the immense block he gave up the Siena work, and contracted to make a statue in two years. He was to be paid six gold florins a month, and as much more as could be agreed upon when the work was done. He first made a model in wax of his David; it was very small, and is now in the Uffizi. In the beginning of 1504, after about two years and a half had been spent upon it, the work was done, and a discussion then arose as to where it should be placed.
At length it was decided to put it where Michael Angelo himself wished it to be, next the gate of the palace where the Judith of Donatello then stood. The statue weighed eighteen thousand pounds, and its removal was a work of great importance. I shall not give all the details of it here, but shall quote what Grimm says: "The erection of this David was like an occurrence in nature from which people are accustomed to reckon. We find events dated so many years after the erection of the giant. It was mentioned in records in which there was not a line respecting art."
Fig. 106.—Michael Angelo's David.
In 1527 the statue was injured by a stone thrown in a riot. At length it began to show the effect of time and weather, and the people of Florence talked of removing it for better preservation. There was much feeling against this; the Florentines feared that misfortunes would fall upon them if this great work were disturbed; but at last, in 1873, it was placed in the Academy of Fine Arts. It represents the youthful David at the moment when he declares to Goliath, "I come unto thee in the name of the Lord of Hosts." The beautiful figure is muscular and pliant, and the face is full of courage. (Fig. 106.)
About the beginning of the year 1505 Pope Julius II. summoned Michael Angelo to Rome, and after a time gave him a commission to build a colossal mausoleum to be erected for himself. The design was made and accepted, and then Michael Angelo went to Carrara to select marble; after much trouble he succeeded in getting it to Rome, where all who saw it were astonished at the size of the blocks. Pope Julius was delighted, and had a passage made from the palace to the workshop of the sculptor, so that he could visit the artist without being seen. Other sculptors now became jealous of Michael Angelo, and when he went a second time to Carrara, Bramante persuaded the pope that it was a bad sign to build his tomb while he was still living. When Michael Angelo returned and the workmen he had hired arrived from Florence, he found the pope much changed toward him. He no longer hastened the work, neither would he furnish money to carry it on.
Michael Angelo sought the pope for an explanation, and was refused an audience. He wrote a letter thus: "Most Holy Father, I was this morning driven from the palace by the order of your Holiness. If you require me in future you can seek me elsewhere than in Rome." He ordered a Jew to sell all he possessed in Rome, and started for Florence, and stopped not until he was on the ground of Tuscany. The pope sent after him, but as he was a citizen of Florence he threatened the messengers if they touched him. He said he had been treated as a criminal, and he considered himself free from his engagements, and would not return then or ever.
When he reached home a letter came to the Signory of Florence urging his return, and saying that he should be safe. But Michael waited until the third letter was received, and only consented to go when it was arranged that he should be sent as an ambassador of Florence, and be under the protection of the Florentine Republic.
In November, 1506, when the pope had taken Bologna, he sent for Michael Angelo to come to him there. Michael Angelo had not yet seen the pope since he left Rome in anger. When he reached Bologna he went first to San Petronio to hear mass. A servant of the pope recognized him and led him to his Holiness. Julius was at table, but ordered that Michael Angelo should come in, and said to him, "You have waited thus long, it seems, till we should ourselves come to seek you." Michael Angelo kneeled down and begged his pardon, but added that he had remained away because he had been offended. The pope looked at him doubtfully, when one of the priests, fearing what would happen, advised the pope not to judge an ignorant artist as he would another man. Then the pope turned upon him in great anger, and declaring that he himself was ignorant and miserable, ordered him out of his sight. The poor ecclesiastic was so terrified that the attendants were obliged to carry him out, and then the pope spoke graciously to the sculptor, and commanded him not to leave Bologna without his permission. The pope soon gave him an order for a colossal statue in bronze to be erected in Bologna.
The first cast of this statue failed, and the work was not ready to be put in its place until February, 1508. This being done, Michael Angelo returned to Florence, where he had much to do; but Julius soon sent for him to go to Rome, and insisted that he should paint the roof of the Sistine Chapel, which occupied him a long time.
In 1513 Julius II. died, and Michael Angelo resumed his work upon his mausoleum. The pope had mentioned it in his will, and his heirs wished it to be completed. At this time he probably worked upon the statue of Moses and upon the two chained youths. He devoted himself to the mausoleum during three years.
Leo X., who was now pope, demanded the services of Michael Angelo to erect a façade to the Church of San Lorenzo in Florence. The artist objected to this great work, and declared that he was bound to complete the tomb for which he had already received money. But Leo insisted upon his going to Florence. He had much trouble to get his marble from the quarries—the men were ill there. He was ill himself, and he passed a year of great anxiety and trouble, when there came word from Rome that the work must be given up; the building was postponed, and no payment was made to Michael Angelo! He was much disheartened, but returned to his work on the mausoleum.
About 1523, when, after many changes, Cardinal Medici was pope, the work at San Lorenzo was resumed. But in 1525 the pope again summoned Michael Angelo to Rome. The heirs of Julius were complaining of delay, but at last the pope insisted upon his great need of the artist, and again he was sent back to Florence, where the cupola of the new Sacristy to San Lorenzo was soon finished. Great political confusion now ensued, and little can be said of Michael Angelo as a sculptor until 1530, when he again resumed his work on the Sacristy.
Fig. 107.—Giuliano de' Medici.
By Michael Angelo.
He worked with the greatest industry and rapidity, and in a few months had nearly finished the four colossal figures which rest upon the sarcophagi of Lorenzo and Giuliano de' Medici. The pope was forced to command the sculptor to rest. His health was so broken by the sorrow which the political condition of Florence caused him, and by his anxiety about the mausoleum of Julius, that there was much danger of his killing himself with work and worry. He went to Rome, and matters were more satisfactorily arranged. He returned to Florence, and labored there until 1534, when Clement VII. died, and Michael Angelo left his work in San Lorenzo, never to resume it. Unfinished as these sculptures are, they make a grand part of the wonderful works of this great man. The statues of the two Medici and those of Morning, Evening, Day, and Night would be sufficient to establish the fame of an artist if he had done nothing more. (Fig. 107.)
Under the new pope, Paul III., he was constantly employed as a painter, and architectural labors were put upon him, so that as a sculptor we have no more works of his to mention except an unfinished group which was in his studio at the time of his death. It represents the dead Christ upon his mother's lap, with Joseph of Arimathea standing by. This group is now in the Church of Santa Maria del Fiore, or the Cathedral of Florence. The mausoleum of Julius II. caused Michael Angelo and others so much trouble and vexation that the whole affair came to be known as the "tragedy of the sepulchre." When Julius first ordered it he intended to place it in St. Peter's, but in the end it was erected in the Church of San Pietro in Vincoli, of which Julius had been the titular cardinal. Of all the monument but three figures can really be called the work of Michael Angelo. These are the Leah and Rachel upon the lower stage, and the Moses, which is one of the most famous statues in the world. Paul III., with eight cardinals, once visited the studio of the sculptor when he was at work upon this statue, and they declared that this alone was sufficient for the pope's monument (Fig. 108).
The life of Michael Angelo was a sad one; indeed, it is scarcely possible to recount a more pathetic story than was his. The misfortunes which came to the Medici were sharp griefs to him, and his temperament was such that he could not forget his woes. His family, too, looked to him for large sums of money, and while he lived most frugally they spent his earnings. In his old age he said, "Rich as I am, I have always lived like a poor man."
Fig. 108.—Statue of Moses.
By Michael Angelo.
In 1529, when Florence was under great political excitement, Michael Angelo was appointed superintendent of all the fortifications of the Florentine territory. In the midst of his duties he became aware of facts which determined him to fly. He went to Venice, and was proscribed as a rebel. We cannot stay here to inquire as to his wisdom in this, but must go on to say that at length he was so much needed that he was persuaded to return. Then he had the dreadful experiences of hope and fear, sickness and famine, and all the horrors of a siege, only to see his beloved home deprived of its freedom, and in the possession of those whom he despised and hated. To Michael Angelo this was far more bitter than any personal sorrow; he never recovered from its effects, and it was immediately after this that he worked in the Sacristy of San Lorenzo as if trying to kill himself.
He was bold as he was angry. He was treated kindly, and advised to forget the past; but he never concealed his views. When his statue of Night was exhibited, verses were put upon it, according to the custom of the time; one verse read, "Night, whom you see slumbering here so charmingly, has been carved by an angel, in marble. She sleeps, she lives; waken her, if you will not believe it, and she will speak."
To this Michael Angelo replied, "Sleep is dear to me, and still more that I am stone, so long as dishonor and shame last among us; the happiest fate is to see, to hear nothing; for this reason waken me not. I pray you, speak gently." He had great courage to speak his anger thus publicly in the midst of those who could easily destroy him.
In 1537 or 1538 his father died, and the artist suffered terribly from his grief. He wrote a sonnet beginning:
"Already had I wept and sighed so much.
I thought all grief forever at an end,
Exhaled in sighs, shed forth in bitter tears."
The religious views of Michael Angelo were very broad, and he had a trustful and obedient dependence upon God, in whose mercy and love he gratefully rested with the simple faith of a child. It was not far from the time when his father died that Michael Angelo first met Vittoria Colonna. He was now more than sixty years old; and though his poems show that he had loved children and women all his life, yet he had allowed himself no attachments; his life had been lonely and alone. Now, at this late hour, he yielded his heart to this beautiful, gifted woman, who returned his friendship with the fullest esteem. During these years he was happier than he had ever been. But in 1541 she fell under the suspicion of the Inquisition, and was obliged to leave Rome.
During two years they wrote constantly to each other, and each sent to the other the sonnets they wrote. At this time all Italy read the poems of Vittoria, and those of Michael Angelo still stand the test of time. In them he shows the blessed effect of her influence over him. At length she returned to Rome and entered a convent, where she died in 1547. Michael Angelo was with her to the last, and years later he declared that he regretted nothing so much as that he had only kissed her hand, and not her forehead or cheeks in that last hour. His loss was far too great to be told. (An engraving of a portrait of Michael Angelo can be seen in Mrs. Clement's "Painting," p. 95.)
In the year following Vittoria's death all the hopes which he had cherished for the freedom of Florence were crushed. High honors were offered him to induce him to return there, but he would not go. His health failed, his sadness increased, and his writings show how constantly he mourned for Vittoria. After this he did much work as an architect, and held the post of director of the building of St. Peter's. He superintended the erection of the statue of Marcus Aurelius, and completed the Farnese Palace, and had many improvements in mind.
Now, in his old age, he was authority itself in Rome. He had no rival, and his advice was sought by artists as well as others. He lived very simply: he dined alone, and received his visitors in the plainest manner. Anatomy, which had always been a passion with him, was now his chief pursuit. He made many dissections of animals, and was grateful when a human subject could be allowed him.
When he could not sleep he would get up at night and work upon the group of which we have spoken; he had a cap with a candle in it, so that it cast a light upon his work. Vasari once entered when he was at work upon this group, and had a lantern in his hand; he dropped it purposely, so that the sculpture should not be seen, and said: "I am so old that death often pulls me by the coat to come to him, and some day I shall fall down like this lantern, and my last spark of life will be extinguished."
There are many very interesting circumstances told of his last years and his strength of mind, and the work which he did was wonderful; but we have not space to recount it here.
At length, in February, 1564, when almost ninety years old, he died. He had asked to be buried in Florence. His friends feared that this would be opposed, so they held burial-services in Rome, and his body was afterward carried through the gates as merchandise. In Florence the body was first laid in San Piero Maggiore, and on Sunday, at evening, the artists assembled, and forming a procession, proceeded to Santa Croce, where he was buried. The younger artists bore the bier upon their shoulders, and the older ones carried torches to light the way. A great multitude followed the procession, and in the Sacristy of Santa Croce the coffin was opened; though three weeks had passed since his death, his face appeared as if he had just died; the crowd was very great, but all was quiet, and before morning it had dispersed. The Duke had thought that a public funeral would recall old memories, and might cause a disturbance; but Michael Angelo had left Florence thirty years before his death, and his connection with the city was forgotten by many.
The July following was appointed for a memorial service in his honor; San Lorenzo was splendidly decorated; Varchi delivered an oration. Leonardo, his nephew, erected a monument to him in Santa Croce, for which the Duke gave the marble. His statue stands in the court of the Uffizi with those of other great Florentines, but with no especial prominence. His house in the Ghibelline Street is preserved as a museum, and visitors there see many mementos of this great man.
In 1875 a grand festival was held in Florence to celebrate the four hundredth anniversary of his birth. The ceremonies were impressive, and certain documents relating to his life which had never been opened, by command of the king, were given to suitable persons for examination. Mr. Heath Wilson, an English artist, then residing at Florence, wrote a new life of Michael Angelo, and the last signature which Victor Emmanuel wrote before his death was upon the paper which conferred on Mr. Wilson the Order of the Corona d'Italia, given as a recognition of his services in writing this book.
The national pride in Michael Angelo is very strong. "All Italians feel that he occupies the third place by the side of Dante and Raphael, and forms with them a triumvirate of the greatest men produced by their country—a poet, a painter, and one who was great in all arts. Who would place a general or a statesman by their side as equal to them? It is art alone which marks the prime of nations."
The genius of Michael Angelo and his spirit were powerful forces. They pervaded the whole art of Italy to such an extent that it may be said that all sculptors were his imitators, both while he lived and after his death. He loved to treat strong subjects, such as demanded violent movement and unusual positions. It was only a man of his genius who could raise such subjects above grotesqueness and the one effect of strange and unnatural exaggeration. As we look over all his works it seems as if the idea of beauty and such things as are pleasing to the ordinary mind rarely, if ever, came to his mind. Noble feeling, depth of thought, strength, and grandeur are the associations which we have with him, and in the hands of weaker men, as his imitators were, these subjects became barren, hollow displays of distorted limbs and soulless heads and faces.
The result is, that there is little to be said of the immediate followers of this great man. Guglielmo della Porta was one of his most able scholars, and his chief work was a monument to Pope Paul III. in the Church of St. Peter's. The figure of the pope is in bronze, is seated, and holding the right hand in benediction. It is dignified and well designed. The figures of Justice and Prudence are not as good, and two others, Peace and Abundance, which were a part of this work, but are now in the Farnese Palace, lack power, and show an attempt at a representation of mere physical beauty.
Baccio Bandinelli (1487-1559) is more noticeable for his hatred of Michael Angelo than for any other characteristic. He was a native of Florence and a friend of Leonardo da Vinci. He was powerful in his design and bold in his treatment of his subjects, but he was full of affectation and mannerisms in his execution of his works. He was false and envious, and his one good quality was that of industry. His best works are on the screen of the high-altar in the Cathedral of Florence, a relief on a pedestal in the Piazza of San Lorenzo, in Florence, and a group in the Church of the Annunziata, which he intended for his own monument; the subject is Nicodemus supporting Christ, and the Nicodemus is a portrait of Bandinelli himself.
